


Irréel

by FievreAlgide



Category: French Revolution RPF
Genre: Gen, Historical, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Thermidor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FievreAlgide/pseuds/FievreAlgide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For today, there is no smile. Because as I open my eyes, there are no more childish fancies: they all died in one day. And I too am dead. But not physically—not yet."</p><p>As the sun rises for a last time on his life, Saint-Just recalls Le Bas’ last words, next to the unconscious Robespierre, and how he, himself, considered ending everything. (Written from Saint-Just’s POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irréel

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by estellacat (LJ)/montagnarde1793 (Tumblr).
> 
> Originally posted on Livejournal on March 25, 2007.

**Irréel.**

That's how this day could be considered. Only one word to describe it: _unreal_. Like when I shut my eyes and remember life as a kid, when I had considered killing myself after having torn my beautiful clothes and would have preferred to escape life rather than face the shame of coming back home to my mother. When I hid amidst nature, in silence, thinking about grand tragedies… such a grand tragedy would, admittedly, make me shake my head and smile today – if today were not _today_. 

For today, there is no smile. Because as I open my eyes, there are no more childish fancies: they all died in one day. And I too am dead. But not physically—not yet.

This is the last sunrise I will ever see. Mocking me with its brightness, chasing the shadows of the night, back when… I hear his voice again. His last words haunt me.

_"Is he..."_

The word had been too difficult to speak. It had remained stuck in his throat, visibly. But I had found nothing to reply. I could only stare at him, at my friend's nervous eyes. I wish, oh, so much, that I had found something reassuring, comforting to say, to save him from the answer we both dreaded. But still I said nothing. And he grew impatient. Around us, it was not silent – unlike now – through the reverberations of pistols, fire, screaming, the tocsin turning us both insane, hammering its emergency in our minds. 

I remember seeing him bending down and embracing the other man. I heard his whispers... I understood. It was not long before he looked my way again, eyes damp, a pistol against his head.

_"Saint-Just, mon ami..."_

One of his trembling hands had reached my shoulder, its warmth gripping my freezing body. I still remember this grip. I still feel it. 

_"I'll be there; I'll wait."_

Maybe it's true he's here.

I knew what he meant. And though I didn't want him to do it, I couldn't stop him. Maybe I didn't want it... maybe I didn't try to stop anything at all. 

How many words have I said today? 

_"Le Bas..."_

But his eyes couldn't see when my lips had finally begun to move. Not anymore.

And I could have stopped everything. And I would have done it. My own pistol would have brought me the silence I have longed for so long, the _sense_ which, I am now convinced, has forever left this world. But I didn't want the ceiling of the Hôtel de Ville to be the last thing I'd see, nor the lifeless eyes and bleeding bodies of my friends, which I could not bear to look at, which I cannot bear to remember the sight of. 

I know I shut my eyes again, and I saw the sky above Blérancourt, or imagined it, back when I used to lie in the grass and dream about the clouds, dreaming about the future... about my future.

And my fingers would have done it, to meet the bliss of numbness... had I not gasped and dropped the pistol upon opening my eyes and seeing the man who _should not_ have been moaning and suffering and _breathing_ next to me.

_"Maximilien...?"_

And oh, how I wish I had never dropped the pistol.

-Fin-


End file.
